Study in Flash Mobs
by Servant of Fire
Summary: Sherlock and Homeless Network dance team come up with an interesting way to catch a killer. John gets roped into a flash-mob. For my friend, Lady of the Fandoms.


**Study in Flash Mobs~**

**To her ladyship, The Lady of Fandoms,**

"Oh,brilliant, and we've been chasing him all bloody day!" John was half bowed over, his leg, the bad one, giving him very great grief.

Once again the thrill of the hunt was driving them on, blood pumping through their veins and about to make John pass out. More simply put, they were chasing a murderer they had evidence to convict,needing to get him where they could take him to New Scotland Yard and have him arrested, right through the middle of Heathrow airport.

"We're never going to catch up with him!" John whined.

Sherlock, muttered, "Hold this," and threw his coat over John's head,"Oi, what?"

"And this, you're most helpful, John!" he cried, and threw his scarf around John's neck.

"What are you doing?"

He looked to see that under his coat, Sherlock had been wearing a close fitting, olive-green and black stripe hoodie. He also realized, Sherlock was wearing skinny jeans...what? He pulled off his normal shoes, and pulled on a pair of bright ,"Ronald McDonald "red converse that had been tucked somewhere in the folds of his coat. He pulled on a grey beanie, and stuck on a fake goatee. "Really, what are you doing?"John gasped, as he pulled on some deep , neon purple texting gloves.

"Not what am I doing, what are we doing?" he took his coat,and scarf from John( I shall remind the reader, the both of them were still running at a pretty steady pace right through the crowded airport as this took place) and tossed them on a luggage cart.

"I'll get them later. Put these on!"

"What?"

Sherlock slipped some wire-frame black glasses on John, and pulled a carrot- orange, fuzzy wig over his head,

"You can hit me later," he chuckled, and pulled out of the pocket of the skin-fitting jacket he was wearing, a pair of bright blue texting gloves to match the ones he was wearing.

"Why do I need to?"

Sherlock didn't answer, but leaped out in the middle of the walkway , as if on cue,

"Ok, ladies, like we rehearsed, let's teach this love sick fool how to dance before his wedding day!" he shouted.

Suddenly a team of 10 or 15 women leaped out, and did their hands in a "pistol shape" standing like Charlie's Angels,

"Good morning, ladies!"Sherlock cried, starting to dance Michael Jackson's "Thriller."

John gawked , and did nothing. "Good morning, Charlie!" the girls cried, and started firing at a line up of boys on the other end of the walkway.

They put up their arms like invisible shields, and started closing in on Charlie's Angels. The murderer, though valiantly he tried to escape, got caught in the middle of the mob, and was forced to dance.

Sherlock did the YMCA from where he had leaped up on a trash can, and did a front-flip through the air, knocking the murderer down on his knees, and forcing him to dance the freestyle,the twirling, subway-in-New-York -street- dancer- hand-over-hand kind, until he was knocked on his nose, and a boy dancer had his heel planted firmly in his backside.

"Sir, I'm happy to inform you, that you've been punked. This flashmob is courtesy of the London Homeless Network. And its purpose is to teach John Watson how to dance for his wedding day, before we take you to the Peelers of course..."Sherlock gasped, and then waltzed over to John, bowed, and extended a hand like a gentleman.

"I'm going to kill you. Would right this minute, if I didn't need lessons..."John moaned, and took Sherlock's hand.

They were suddenly waltzing all over the terminal, and the homeless network dancers circled around the murderer, and did the can-can to the appropriate music suddenly blaring over the loudspeaker, until Sherlock said, "Ah, you've got this down...No worries,mate."

He then did a hand-stand back onto the trash can, and did a conducters sweep with his hand to signal the dancers to stop. They all cleared off ,except for the boy pinning "Jolly Roger" down.

Sherlock leaped back into the walk way, and waved his hands like a mime, at a group of gawking people, amongst their company a gaggle of little girls between ages 6-10, jaws dropping their gum.

"YoU diDnT sEe aNyThiNg..." Sherlock said voice quailing mysteriously,and then bowed, smiling and winking at the smallest girl, who just wrinkled her nose at him.

He turned around, "Thank you, Ben."

"You're welcome ,Sherlock."

A girl came up with Sherlock's coat and scarf,

"Thank you, Sam. Nice choreographing by the way."

"No problem ,Sherlock."

Sherlock stripped his fake beard off, pealed the beanie off his wild,raven curls, and pealed the gloves off, slipping his coat and scarf back on so quickly one barely noticed he'd not been wearing them. Then, he pealed off the Ronald McDonald numbers, and John's wig, glasses, and gloves equally quickly, threw them in a trashbin as if they carried plague, and scratched his chin.

"You're a natural dancer, John!"

John's mouth formed a flatline. Sherlock just shrugged, and hauled,"Jolly Roger" to his feet.

" Take his other side, to New Scotland Yard we go..."

They walked in silence for a long moment before John finally shouted loud enough to scare a flock of pigeons and make "Jolly Roger" flinch,

"WHY!?"

"Because we caught him's why..."

John growled, and they didn't speak again until after they reached New Scotland Yard.

**~The End.**


End file.
